


Back to the Beginning

by DancingSnowflakes23



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-17 02:14:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29092593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DancingSnowflakes23/pseuds/DancingSnowflakes23
Summary: Rhaegar Targaryen dies at the Trident and is sent back in time to set everything right.An AU-fix it drabble.
Relationships: Lyanna Stark/Rhaegar Targaryen
Comments: 5
Kudos: 64





	Back to the Beginning

**Rhaegar**

Rhaegar woke at dawn, the chill of the night air brushing over his skin. As he turned around he found himself in his old chamber at Dragonstone. The one he had occupied as a young boy, stuffed with books and papers.

The smell of candles and dust hung in the air. Outside he heard the storms clashing against the salt-licked towers of his ancestor’s home.

 _I am not dead_ , he realized then and took a glance at his hands. They were shaking terribly. _And Not crashed by Robert Baratheon’s war hammer._

He still felt the pain in his chest. It was a ghostlike and distant pain. Sharp and harsh at the same time.

He still recalled the Stormlord’s rage when Rhaegar had called him a liar. He had never raped Lyanna. No, he had loved her, as foolish as that had been. But then, how could he have not loved her? The girl that was braver than most knights and gentle of heart…

That all seemed now distant to him. Like a dream that had never happened.

And perhaps that is what had happened?

Perhaps the world was a dream?

Or perhaps he was going mad.

Slowly, he rose to his feet and touched his harp, the silver wings bringing forth a sweet sound. Nothing had changed.

Hesitatingly, he made his way over to the table, where a silver candleholder was placed. He lifted the shiny object and took a glance at his face.

He was ten years younger at least. A boy. Perhaps sixteen or seventeen.

He dropped the chandelier in shock and had to extinguish the fires with his boots. Later he sat crumpled on the carpet, wrecking his brains over what had happened.

He had not just died, he had fallen back in time.

"But why?“ he asked himself and stared at his shaking hands. "Why?“

_To set things right._

…

Soon enough, he found out that he was sixteen again. The Defiance had not yet taken place and Lord Steffon had not yet sailed for Essos in search of his bride.

This time, Rhaegar took matters into his own hands, instead of allowing his mother to arrange a match for him. He informed his father that he would find a wife for himself.

His father, who had not lost his sanity yet, had not been pleased but had not fought him over it either. As long as it is no common whore, like the woman chosen by his grand-uncle Duncan, he would be pleased.

Thus, the first misfortune was averted, but the Defiance he could not prevent. Instead, he made use of it. When his father became a captive, no one came to save him this time around. He perished in the most miserable of ways and Rhaegar even felt a hint of pity for him when he saw his mother weep for him.

"I never loved him,“ she said then and brushed her tears away, as she put his father’s crown atop Rhaegar’s head. „But he was my brother and therefore I must weep for him and for the babe he left me. Try to be a better king than him, my son.“

And Rhaegar tried exactly that, but even with the crown resting atop his head, Rhaegar found himself soon surrounded by more than one viper trying to poison his rule.

There was Lord Tywin Lannister, who paraded his daughter in front of his nose with every passing moment. The Dornish Princess, who had not forgotten that she had once been his mother’s friend. Lord Hoster, who offered him both his daughter’s for choosing. Lord Hightower, who offered another daughter and many more lords, yet Rhaegar did not marry any one of them.

In fact, the first thing he did was sent Lord Tywin into early retirement, a fact he never forgave him to replace him with Steffon Baratheon, a loyal and mild-mannered man that served Rhaegar well. His wife joined him as well and so did his other two sons. Stannis, the oldest held not much love for the extravagances of court, but the younger son Renly, who was just a babe seemed to grow into a happy and precious boy beloved by everyone at court. In his earlier life, Rhaegar had avoided Robert Baratheon, but in this life he tried to become his friend, a task easier said than done and that ended ultimately in failure. Robert and he were like fire and water.

Lord Baratheon was distraught over his son’s lack of interest in statesmanship, but Rhaegar forgot about it soon enough. Instead, he turned his attention north, to find a bride for himself. By then, Elia had long been wed to Lord Baelor Hightower.

And Robert Baratheon had long been wed to Catelyn Tully when Rhaegar wrote to Winterfell to ask for Lyanna’s hand in marriage. Lord Rickard was surprised, but he didn’t refuse him either.

Lyanna was barely fifteen and she was as wild and beautiful as he recalled her. She was not as pleased to see him, though. Rhaegar had forgotten that the last time he had been the one that would save her from an unwanted marriage.

Thus, their reunion was rather cold, though she lightened up to him when he presented her with a new horse and a sword as a wedding gift.

"Why me?“ she asked him that night he came to Winterfell. They were in the godwood, the leaves of the weirwood tree rustling softly. "I do not understand why you would choose me.“

"Why not?“ he asked in return, laughing and smiling. It was not something he had done often in his life. „You are as fine as any lady in the realm.“

She laughed and twirled the winter rose in her hair, snow melting away in her dark hair.

"Old Nan always said I am no lady. Just a little girl, dreaming of war and knighthood. A foolish girl who knows nothing about the world.“

Rhaegar shook his head and kissed her hand. "You are not foolish, my lady. Those who dream are far more foolish because their life is spent without happiness, but this is no dream. No, this is real and there will come a day when all our dreams and hopes will be squashed by the cruelty of winter.“

Her dark grey eyes were glassy and filled with curiosity.

Then, her lips twisted upwards.

"You have my full attention, your grace.“

…


End file.
